***
It was a little after midday when Allie arrived in her apartment building. She got a disapproving look from her elderly neighbor, Mrs. Jessop, in the hall, and guessed her dress and slightly bedraggled hair fairly screamed, ‘slut’.
Strangely, though, she didn’t avoid the older woman’s eyes. Instead, she offered her a warm, “Good afternoon,” as the smile she’d worn ever since she woke up continued to brighten her features.
It wasn’t until she was in the safety of her own apartment and slumped on the couch, with her legs propped up on the seat, that she realized she truly didn’t care what Mrs. Jessop thought. She didn’t care what anybody thought. Maybe she had acted like a slut, but she was not ashamed of it. She’d always gone after what she wanted, she’d just been under the impression that what she wanted was only a career. How wrong she was. There were so many more things to want, crave and desire in this world. Then, the reminder of what had caused her drastic change in attitude bombarded Allie and the smile she’d been unable to remove from her face, disappeared of its own accord. Fortunately, however, fatigue came to her rescue, preventing her from dwelling on her fate, as she drifted off into a pleasant sleep.
Allie slept the entire afternoon away. By the time she woke, it was almost five o’clock and she was ravenous. Pulling herself up from the couch, she dragged her lethargic limbs to the kitchen and threw open the refrigerator. She stood for several moments, sleep still fogging her brain, before she reached forwards to a pasta meal. It took her less than thirty seconds to rip the cardboard open and toss the tray into the microwave.
Leaving Percy Spencer’s wonderful invention to work its magic, she wandered into the bathroom, tossed some cold water on her face and then peeled herself from her dress.
When the microwave’s incessant beep announced that dinner was served, Allie walked back onto the kitchen dressed in a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and a crisp white T-shirt. Her hair was scooped back from her face and clipped loosely at the nape of her neck.
Grabbing a fork from a drawer and a plate from the rack, she quickly removed her meal from its packaging and returned to the living room with it. Stifling a yawn, she slid her plate onto the coffee table and allowed the steaming pasta to cool. Her eyes moved over the table, looking for some distraction for a couple of minutes. A copy of Rosalind’s magazine, which she’d left a couple of weeks previously, had remained unread. She still had no intention of picking it up. Instead, her eyes continued to move and eventually landing on her laptop, she quickly swept the computer up with her right hand.
She wasn’t exactly sure what to expect when she opened her emails, but she’d secretly hoped that she would find a message from Carl. Sure enough, her inbox had just one unread email, and it was from him. Like her note to him, it was brief. ‘I had a great time, too. If you ever want to meet up again, you know how to find me.’ Allie smiled, wondering if she should take him up on the offer. Sex with him was certainly good. However, it would get too complicated if she spent more than a night with him. He might start to think that she wanted a relationship and, even if he didn’t, if he saw her on even a semi-regular basis, there were things he might notice. Bruises, loss of weight, things she wouldn’t be able to hide from someone who saw her naked. No, there was no question. As wonderful as Carl was, it could only be a one night deal.
Besides, she reminded herself, the whole idea was to make up for all of the lost opportunities she’d had. And, she had to admit, part of the reason sex with Carl had been so good was because it was entirely free, uncommitted, maybe even meaningless. Allie knew, without question, that was what she hungered for.
Closing the email inbox, she opened a new browser and typed words she never thought she would write, ‘www.facebook.com’. Allie had always been a firm believer that Facebook was a complete waste of time. Now, however, she began to see a way of using it to her advantage. She wanted to contact men from her past, men who previously she simply hadn’t had time for. Consequently, with the exception of Carl, who she’d bumped into quite by accident and exchanged email address with, she hadn’t remained in touch with any of the guys who were now on her list of potential lovers. What better way to find them, than through Facebook? “Who would have thought,” she muttered, typing her details to open a profile on the site. “I’m actually grateful to Mark Zuckerberg for creating this crap.”
It didn’t take long to find a number of friends she’d attended college with and through many of them, she was able to find others, who for one reason or another weren’t listed on the college network. Soon, she’d already got over 150 ‘friends’. There were four men that she remembered particularly vividly and, writing quick private message to all of them, she hoped that they would remember her, too.
By the time she set the laptop back on the table, her dinner was cold, but she found she wasn’t hungry anyway. She left the goopy, unappetizing mess and kept her eyes on the computer screen. Leaning forward, she lent her elbows on her knees and placed her chin on her hands. As the seconds ticked by, she tapped her index finger against her cheek. She knew that it was stupid to sit there waiting, she was well aware of the fact that people had lives and weren’t logged onto Facebook twenty four hours a day. Nevertheless, the anticipation would not allow her to think of anything else.
So she continued to sit, as the minute’s ticked by, willing just one of the men to write to her, even if it was just to say, ‘No, I’m sorry, but I haven’t got a clue who you are.’ After fifteen excruciatingly long minutes, the small red ‘1’ appeared at the top of the message icon. Allie slipped from the couch and settled on the floor, pulling the laptop close to the edge of the coffee table, so she could reach the keyboard with ease.
The first man to reply was Stephen Lanzmann. He worked on the college paper and that meant Allie had had more time for him than most men. They even went on a couple of dinner dates. However, when he tried to move things further, Allie convinced herself that it would be a bad idea to sleep with someone she worked with, even if it was just on the college paper. She believed, somewhat illogically, that it would lead people, especially future employers, to assume that that’s how she got ahead in the workplace. So, their blossoming relationship was ended before it ever went anywhere.
She opened his message with no small amount of trepidation, wondering if perhaps, even though he’d been outwardly very understanding of her decision all those years ago, he was secretly pissed off. The opening line appeared to suggest that her concern was in vain. ‘Oh my, God! Allie McLaren, how long has it been?’ He went on to discuss old times, asking whether she remembered some of the stories they’d worked on together. Then, he asked the question she’d wanted to ask him. ‘Would you like to meet up some time?’
Not bothering to appear to play it cool, Allie chose not to wait before replying. Soon, a date for the following week was arranged. And, just as she was about to close the laptop, she found another new message. Within ten minutes, she had a second date, just three days after her planned meeting with Stephen. She wavered momentarily over whether to see the two men so close to one another, but shrugged off any concern the old Allie would have had, insisting that she didn’t have the luxury of time. Besides, she reminded herself, she wasn’t the old Allie any more. If there had been any residual doubt over that, Carl had washed it away.
3 Book Romance Bundle: "Her Last Love Affair" & "Loving Him Peacefully" & "Unwelcome Reunion" Page 8
